Resurrection: Stages
by RECKLESS SOLDIER-MS
Summary: In the aftermath of the battle of Denerim, and the slaying of the Archdemon, a hero is remembered.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

This is a tie in to my story Resurrection. But it doesn't spoil anything

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Resurrection: Stages

Zevran: Stage D

The fifth blight was over, and it was a momentous day of celebration. Ferelden was at peace again, the darkspawn were being driven back into the deep roads, the civil war was over, a new queen and king were being crowned. Overall, everything was getting better, and Zevran felt no shame in celebrating his own fortune. His best friend Daylen Amell had set him free of the crows, and had become a hero to many. Finally, things were looking up for Zevran. He had loved many fine women in his life, yet all the wine and good times in the world paled in comparison to the moments he shared with Daylen Amell.

"If you excuse me ladies, I have to go and see a friend," Zevran got out of bed.

"Oi!" one of the prostitutes growled.

"You too Jeff," the assassin grinned, putting on his clothes and leaving his room.

He put on his belt, styled his hair, and walked out into the bar. The Pearl was abuzz with celebration tonight. Lovers were fucking, friends were drinking, even those who were traditionally alone smiled more. Zevran however had interest only in being with his best friend. He smiled, seeing the mage sitting at the bar, his hair spiked in its unique way, his red eyes meeting Zevran's. Daylen closed his eyes, tilted his head, and smiled.

"What will it be tonight Zev?" Daylen asked.

"Well I have a room with a lovely pair of elves, a stud of a man, and a dwarf in drag," Zevran explained.

"How's about we stick to the ale for now," Daylen said, patting Zevran's back as he sat.

"To think, it's only been a few months since we first met, and yet our fortunes have changed so significantly," Zevran said.

"Speak for yourself, I think I did pretty well in the circle."

"You hated it there," the elf nudged the man's side, drawing a grin from him.

"My grandfather once said, that it is possible for a man to change his stars, they need just that right amount of circumstance, fate, and determination. I however think differently, I think sometimes, things want to happen, the blight wanted to end. It didn't have to be me, it could have been a nobleman from Highever, an elf or a dwarf, in the years to come, people will probably downplay what I've done, and I hope that they do, I hope that helping people does become this common and accepted thing, not something that amazes others," Daylen explained.

"Hey, don't try to deny what you've done my friend, you did things few men could do, there were snags on the way, but you kept going, and I can honestly say, you've made things better for some people," Zevran said.

"How can you say that?" Daylen asked.

"Because you've helped me to change my stars Day, I can honestly say I'm no longer the man I was a few months ago, thank you for that," Zevran's voice lost its usually humorous tone as he gripped Daylen's shoulder.

Daylen smiled again, raising his cup and tapping it against Zevran's. Both men tilted the contents of the cups down their throats. Music played, a melody quite often played in Kirkwall of all places.

'It is fate,' Zevran thought to himself.

"QUIET!" he yelled.

The brothel grew silent as Zevran hummed and Daylen lowered his head in embarrassment.

"This is a common song in Kirkwall Taverns, I've heard it is played every day in the hanged man," Zevran said.

"I haven't been to Kirkwall in years," Daylen said.

"Then keep listening my friend, keep listening, this is the kind of music we'll be hearing once we journey to your home. I've been there on work for the crows, I'll show you the hanged man, and the blooming rose, they have the most beautiful women there in the free marches, maybe they'll make you forget your honour, I'm sure Leliana will join us," Zevran explained.

The elf's words made Daylen blush as he kept on drinking. As the night progressed, and the patrons began to leave, Zevran and Daylen continued drinking, dancing and even singing to the songs the bard played. In the months they had known one another, they were finally able to cut loose and have some fun.

They swayed in the street as they sang, both drunk and still holding their ale cups. Zevran collapsed in the middle of Denerim's markets, and Daylen laughed. He had a great laugh, which Zevran always enjoyed hearing.

"The stars are so bright tonight Day," Zevran said.

"Yeah, shows me how beautiful Denerim can be, everyone is happy, because they're alive now," Daylen looked up at the stars, something he often did.

In their light, he was beautiful to Zevran, and appeared as the very image of the great man that Zevran knew people would call him. Daylen sat on the floor and patted Zevran's back.

"We will always be friends Zevran," he said.

"Hey, what's brought this on? We're still going to be going on many great adventures together," Zevran said.

Daylen Amell closed his eyes, tilted his head to the side, and smiled, the way Zevran always loved seeing him.

"Zevran?"

The elf, and former crow looked up, smiling as he saw Isabella. The pirate queen was a welcome sight, she knew Daylen and flirted with him as much as he did.

"Perhaps you'd like to join us my dear, we're discussing our future adventures, we could use a ship to carry us on these adventures," Zevran explained.

"Zevran, who have you been talking to?" she asked.

"Why my..." Zevran turned, but much to his confusion, Daylen wasn't there.

He looked at the surrounding streets, for any sign of the mage. Perhaps he had performed some disappearing act, Daylen always did point out that he and Isabela got on well, maybe he was trying to set them up.

"You're wasting your time Day, Isabella and I don't need tricks to get us to bed one another, in fact we'll probably do it tonight, you're welcome to join us, don't be shy, come out," Zevran said, standing up and calling out for the man.

But he promptly fell back, his vision blurring, head spinning. He bought his hands to his face, and noticed that there were tears in his eyes. But why would he be crying, Daylen was a hero now, he had won the day, beaten the Archdemon and saved the world. Why would he cry?

"Who were you talking to Zevran?" Isabella asked.

If it was anyone else, she would have mocked them for weakness. Not Zevran, not the man who set her free from her husband, not a friend. Zevran rubbed his head as he looked, trying to find someone who wasn't there, someone he wouldn't see again.

"I was, I was talking to..." he paused, taking a breath as more tears came out of his eyes.

He sniffed, nose moist with the tears, eyes red with the tears. His once cheery nature shattered, for even with the wine, reality had set in.

"My friend," he said, looking at Isabella as she crouched beside him.

"You truly loved him didn't you?" she asked.

"He was my friend," he said, voice filled with sorrow.

Isabella placed a chaste and loving kiss on Zevran's forehead, and wrapped her arm around his head. He cried, she'd never seen him cry before. Thoughts of sex were gone, only the need to comfort a friend.

"He was my friend!"

Next Oghren: Stage A

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So if you didn't know before, this will be a five chapter story, involving companions of the sacrificed Warden, in this case a human male mage, going through the stages of grief. If you're reading Resurrection, it conveys what Daylen meant to certain characters. This one will focus on companion reactions, though I might do a story involving the reactions of characters such as Jowan, Irving and the Hawke family.

Let me know what you think please


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

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Resurrection: Stages

Oghren: Stage A

A smile crossed Oghren's face as the light came from Fort Drakon. He had never seen fear in a darkspawn's face before, until that great boom, and the pillar of light marked the end of the Archdemon. The horde ignored their opponents and their victims, the monsters fled like the people they had forced from their homes. Oghren envied the Legion, they would get to cut the horde off in the deep roads. Raising his axe over his head, Oghren bellowed with his brethren, with the human knights and foot soldiers, the mages and the city and Dalish elves.

'Nothing brings people together like a good old fight Day,' Oghren thought.

He thought of that moment when Daylen Amell, a human mage of a circle tower, became his friend.

"So, how did it go?" the young man asked him.

They had stopped off at a village pub. Their other companions were gathering some supplies when they stopped for a drink. Oghren had also run low on his own stash, so he always refilled at a local tavern, wherever served lager.

"With Felsi, oh it went," Oghren chuckled and Daylen grinned.

"Are you going to see her again?" Daylen asked.

"I don't know, maybe, it was fun but, it isn't like it will go anywhere," Oghren grumbled.

"What makes you say that?"

"Come on warden, you know why, I gave marriage a shot once, the witch you're screwing was right, I messed things up with Branca so badly she turned to women," Oghren explained.

"She was probably always attracted to women and you didn't notice, or she was attracted to both," Daylen shrugged.

"Exactly, I'm a brute, fighting's the only thing I'm good at, that and drinking. Back in Orzammar, it didn't matter what I did, I would have always have been the city drunkard."

"Branka underestimated you, besides, you've changed Oghren, you aren't the same dwarf who left Orzammar."

"What do you mean?" Oghren asked.

"I remember that look in your eyes Oghren, when you asked to come with us to find Branka. You probably didn't know it, but you were lost, a man desperate for answers," Daylen explained.

"And what happened when I got them? Branka was insane," Oghren said.

"But you didn't need someone to tell you that. Simply seeing what was happening, was enough for you to come to your own conclusion regarding Branka. At that point you didn't need her or anyone to tell you what was right, you knew what it was on your own. That's why you asked Caridin to destroy the Anvil!"

"You really thought I was lost before?" Oghren asked.

"I did, but seeing the look in your eyes when you finally met Branka, confirmed what I know about you now," Daylen said.

"And what's that?"

"That you Oghren, are a warrior, a man who still stands up and fights for what's right!"

Oghren chuckled bashfully, he requested another drink and looked at Daylen.

"You know, I don't have a lot of friends," he muttered, lifting the cup to his mouth.

"If you're trying to butter me up to pay for your drinks, it won't work," the mage said.

Oghren cast his eyes to the floor, shaking his head, embarrassed with himself. Of course Daylen wouldn't see him as a friend, they had nearly nothing in common. Daylen was kind, wise and optimistic, he was cynical, rude and angry.

"But," Daylen said, slapping Oghren's back. "Since we are friends, I can pay for the first round," he smiled at Oghren, who grinned. "Two please!"

A group of men suddenly walked into the pub. Loud and stumbling across the bar, people could tell they were already partly drunk. They went over to a free table, where a few sat as the others went to the bar. One of the men though looked towards the Daylen and Oghren, scoffing in contempt.

"An elf and a human, what is the fucking world coming to?" the man asked, swinging his arms as he turned to the bar. "Hey, get us an ale here, and if you've got any food that too, fucking starving.

He ogled at some of the serving girls, but glared when a man came to serve them. The man was quite effeminate in both his voice and appearance.

"We have some freshly baked bread and a chicken ready for prep," he said to the men.

"Are you trying to look like a woman?" the drunk man asked.

"Excuse me?" the man was quite taken aback.

"Bring the serving girl here, I'd prefer her on my lap," the drunkard sneered and his gang laughed in agreement, whistling and howling like wolves at the women.

The pair of friends were given their drinks and after tapping them together, both drank. Daylen drank in his own soft way, never tipping the drink back, savouring its taste. Oghren though tilted his back, and by the time he was finished, Daylen had ordered the next round. As they drank, the gang that had walked in became louder. The man who was the drunkest of all took one of the serving girls by her waist, setting her on his knee.

"You know they say the darkspawn are coming out of the wilds to kill everyone, these days women need protection, especially pretty and ripe things like you," the man made a move to fondle her breast, when she slapped it away.

"Leave it bastard, I bring drinks to tables, I'm not a whore," she said.

"I could afford you, come on, I've been on the road, I'm tired, none of my men have fucked anything in three months, perhaps you have friends in the village you could introduce me to," the man winked at her.

"Whilst I'm sure three months without sex is frustrating...to you, she said no so just leave her be. People have enough to worry about from the darkspawn without having to cope with people being disrespectful and threatening," Daylen explained.

The drunk man and his thugs stood up, walking over to where Daylen and Oghren were sitting.

"I think you should mind your own fucking business mate, go on clear off," the man motioned with his hand.

"We've just ordered drinks ass hole," Oghren said.

When the drinks finally came, the man smirked and batted them aside. Some of the ale covered Daylen's hair and Oghren's beard.

"OI!" the barkeep yelled.

"And what are you going to do?" the man asked, arms raised in a challenge.

The barkeep didn't have the build to be a fighter. Then again Oghren would have said the same thing about Daylen. The older man backed away, he didn't want trouble and the drunk man had a gang with him. Oghren snarled, getting off his stool and looking up at the thug.

"Easy Oghren, easy," Daylen said, stepping in front of Oghren and pushing his shoulders.

"Out of my way Day," Oghren growled.

"Come on Daylen do you really want to start a fight here? They're just a bunch of drunk idiots, we're low on coin as it is and you know we shouldn't really make a scene," Daylen explained.

Oghren shook his head in frustration, Daylen was right, they weren't exactly the most popular people at the moment.

"I suppose you're right as usual," the dwarf sighed.

"Besides," Daylen grinned. "The key to bar fights is surprise!"

Daylen placed his staff on one of the tables, and suddenly launched a pint of ale across the room, striking the ring leader square in his forehead. He fell to the floor with a great whack and his friends looked at him in shock. It was shock that Oghren shared as Daylen rested his staff beside his stool. He walked over to the men with a smirk on his face.

"Are we going to stand around here all day? Or are we going to fight?"

Oghren let out a great bellow as the men rushed forward. He rammed one of the men, launching him into the wall. One of them flipped over the table and tried pulling off one of the legs. He was quickly elbowed by Daylen, who took a punch to his face and got his arms locked by a man behind him. Oghren grabbed one of the men by his legs and lifted him up, raising him high before slamming him into the floor. He looked to Daylen, who had kicked one of the men in front of him and head butted the man behind him. After beating the men, the door opened and more thugs came in, brandishing clubs and chair legs. The ring leader stood in front of them, rubbing his bleeding forehead.

"Well, this didn't go as planned," Daylen said.

"Looks like he has more friends than we thought," Oghren muttered.

"I'd take my one friend over his many anyday," Oghren laughed at Daylen's statement.

"Quit with the sentiment and fight kid!"

They launched themselves at the men. After an hour, Leliana and Alistair walked to the pub and saw that a man had been thrown out of the window. A few men were also lying on the ground, groaning and rubbing sore spots. Others were just unconscious. The pair got inside the pub and saw Oghren and Daylen clapping their cups together, the latter counting out coins for the repair costs.

"What in the maker have you two done?" Leliana asked.

"We just hit our heads on something stupid," Daylen said and Oghren chuckled.

"Unbelievable, we're trying to avoid the authorities and you two do this," Alistair said.

"Helping avoid the authorities helps if we don't say we're trying to avoid the authorities Alistair," Leliana snapped, turning to Alistair with a scolding finger that made him cover his mouth in embarrassment.

"Well, it was still fun," Daylen grinned.

That grin, that grin that Daylen had. He would close his eyes and flash his teeth. It was childish in a way, a contradiction of who he could be most of the time. But amongst his friends, he was a different person, a person who fit around each of his friends. With Alistair and Leliana he was supportive and compassionate, with Zevran he would joke around, with Wynn he'd be defiant and challenge her on her lectures, with Sten he'd be curious and understanding of his Qunari culture. Even Shale and Loghain, his enemy had forged a bond with him.

* * *

That grin, Oghren knew he would see it soon, hand victoriously raised. The slayer of the Archdemon, unifier of the people, hero, his friend. Crowds of people came from fort Drakon, but their hands weren't raised. Oghren barged past some of them and looked to the entrance. He saw Daylen's teacher Irving, leaning on his staff with lost look in his eyes. He saw Wynn, arms around Leliana, whose eyes were filled with tears. Then he looked to Loghain, who was carrying in his arms...

"No," Oghren whispered.

His eyes were closed, peacefully, a smile on his face. Not that grin of his, but that content smile. The grief had not yet passed when Daylen's party, save for Sten and Zevran gathered in what was once Loghain's office. Anora and Alistair were there too the latter missing his armour, which made Oghren frown.

"Some of you may have figured it out already, the rest of you I will simply tell you. Daylen delivered the final blow to the Archdemon, as a warden must. If it had been anyone but the two of us, the Archdemon's soul would have transferred to a Darkspawn, a soulless vessel," Loghain explained.

"But if a warden kills it, then it is drawn to the taint in the warden and...the two souls destroy one another," Alistair said, his eyes slowly widening in horror.

Oghren processed the words, a warden must kill the Archdemon, the Archdemon's soul is drawn to the taint, two souls cannot exist in the same body. An ultimate sacrifice made by one, any two wardens, no, any three wardens.

"Where were you?" Oghren asked.

The others looked at him, seeing his hands ball into fists so firmly that they drew blood. He bellowed before, yelled out. But now, his eyes were set on Alistair.

"What were you doing Alistair? Why weren't you with him?" he asked.

Alistair knew what the accusations were about. But he remained speechless, overcome by something that Oghren did not care for.

"HE NEEDED YOU!" Oghren screamed. "HE NEEDED YOU AND YOU ABANDONED HIM!" then he turned to Loghain. "HE GAVE YOU A CHANCE TO REDEEM YOURSELF! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU! It should have been one of you, he was good, kind, the world needed him!"

"Oghren," Leliana said, taking a few steps towards Oghren.

The dwarf ran away, ran as fast as he could. Out of the castle, onto the streets. He ran to the only place he thought he could find comfort.

"More," he told the bar keep, pouring one after another down his throat.

But it didn't hold the same taste as it did before. It hurt to drink, Oghren cursed Daylen, depriving him of what he loved most. He tilted another cup and coughed, slamming it against the table.

" Amell, the hero of valour whom saved our country, more like gave it to dwarves and elves, and don't even get me started on the mages," Oghren heard a voice behind him.

"What are you saying Neil?" one of the drinkers asked.

"I'm saying that that warden, as heroic as he was, has probably opened the door for a whole host of problems. Our queen and her new husband, in gratitude to the elves will probably grant them more rights, which means that Alienage will change, and where will the money come from..."

"The royal treasury you idiot, which comes from taxes we and the elves pay," said the barkeeper.

"But the dwarves, we're going to start trading with them, which probably means their citizens will come and live with us. I mean that armour salesmen came from Orzammar didn't he? He's just the start, we'll be letting all sorts in. Then there's the mages, what are we supposed to forget why they're in those towers? My cousin got pretty close to the final battle, that warden was powerful, powerful and dangerous. It's ironic, his great power ended up killing him, and that bleeding heart of his that's shaped so many a ruler, may end up making things worse, just imagine the bad he would have done if he actually lived."

Oghren dropped his cup. He stood up and walked over to the man. Everything was quiet, everyone was watching him.

"Say that again," he said.

"You want me to spell it out for you short round? Those mage heroes will be granted more authority over themselves, which will lead to things getting worse. That Dillon Amell's actions could very well make things worse, not now, not tomorrow, but years from..."

Suddenly, Oghren punched the man in the groin. As the man fell to his knees, Oghren grabbed him by his ears.

"HIS NAME WAS DAYLEN! DAYLEN! DAYLEN!" he screamed the name, head butting the man again and again. "HE SAVED YOUR UNGRATEFUL LIVES!"

The man's friends tried to grab Oghren, but he had lost himself in berserk fury. Chairs were thrown across the bar, fists slammed into teeth, bones broke. People rushed out of the bar, even the barkeeper hid, hearing Oghren's cries, hearing them as the cries of a wounded monster. Leliana walked into the bar and looked towards Oghren. His face was covered in blood, hands bruises from hitting people. Gone was the rage, he looked up at her with an expression she had never seen before.

"I, I thought if I got drunk the pain...the pain...but it won't stop...I...I don't want to drink alone, no, I don't want to get drunk anymore," he trembled, tears soaking his beard.

Leliana held him and he wrapped his arms around her. It had been years since he had cried. Branka never gave him a reason to cry.

He had a reason to cry today.

Next Leliana: Stage B

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Really there was only one stage I could associate with Oghren, I liked his epilogue from Origins the most, how he married Felsi and sobered up, which I wanted to show the beginning stages of here.

Next time Leliana processes the grief, following events I hinted of in the main Resurrection story.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

* * *

Resurrection: Stages

Leliana: Stage B

Every morning and night Leliana prayed, since the day Marjolaine had betrayed her, since the day she cast aside a life of deceit and selfishness for service to the chantry. But that life was one she chose to abandon, the day she dreamed. The day she dreamt of the Fifth Blight, and the small hope that would arise from it. He was that hope, that hope that Leliana wanted to walk with.

"Be honest with me Day, do you believe that the maker gives me visions?" Leliana once asked him.

"I believe that you believe them," he said.

"That's not an answer," she pouted, punching his arm.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head and remaining silent. They were standing a short distance from everyone in the camp. Alistair and Zevran were making a fire, Oghren was passed out, Morrigan was avoiding Daylen's Mabari, Alpha and Wynn and Stenn were stoic as always. Leliana had no idea where Shale was, but knew she wouldn't be far if they needed help. They had camped out near a stream, though they never got their water from the stream. Daylen would use fire and ice, push his hands together and create clean water. The idea was not something Leliana had heard of in the Orlesian court, where mages were paraded as prizes. Daylen was supposedly a son of nobility, but he didn't have the look of it. His hair was wild, like the mane of an animal, between his height and skin tone, a popular debate amongst the party was whether he had Tevinter or even Qunari ancestry. That and he dressed in the simplest of clothes, never anything decorative. Yet, he stood like the expectation of nobility, but not in the stuck up way that Leliana had often seen. Daylen remained silent and looked up at the stars, until he came to his answer.

"No, I don't believe that the maker gave you visions Leliana," he said and she lowered her head. "But you know that I don't believe in the maker," he elaborated.

"Do you believe it's all just an accident then, no great point to it?" Leliana asked.

Daylen sighed, shaking his head.

"You pay too much attention to Morrigan, I believe that life is life, it's here, we're living. Can't that be enough? Why does there have to be some grand, intelligent design? Why do we have to be thankful to someone for our life? Can we be thankful for life itself? Does there have to be a purpose to it?"

He turned to Leliana, looking her in the eyes.

"Can't life just be about living it, finding something that makes you happy, finding someone," he whispered.

Leliana soon realised that they were standing closer to one another. They were extremely close now, their hips almost touching, looking at each other. Their eyes had already met and Leliana's lips longed to meet his. But she stopped, and looked down.

"Morrigan, I'd imagine you could both be happy, just living away from it all," she said.

"I'd rather go on a journey, with someone I trust, with someone who believes in helping people. Orlais, the Anderfels, Kirkwall, it would be good if I wasn't alone," he explained.

His expression was cute to Leliana. He was so awkward and nervous about it. She took a few steps back and smiled, offering him her hand.

"Then its decided my friend, you and me, travelling as far as we can go, seeking adventure," she said.

Daylen smiled and took her hand, shaking it. They looked to their right, seeing Alistair, Zevran and Alpha standing looking at them.

"That is so sweet," Alistair said.

"You know if you two ever want to share tents, I have enough room in mine for all three of us," Zevran grinned.

"Woof!"

"Never Zev, there's only room in your tent for both of us," Daylen said, slapping Zevran's back.

He then put his arm over Alistair's shoulder.

"Ali here might need some advice though, he's never licked a lamppost in winter," he said.

"Does that analogy apply to the act of intercourse itself, or a very specific act of intercourse?"

"All right, that's enough, I think it's time some of us got some sleep," Alistair blushed and it didn't take long for him to laugh with Daylen and Zevran.

Leliana remembered it as the last time Daylen and Alistair smiled at one another. It was the last time any of them really smiled with Daylen. Everything else became heavy with the awareness that they would meet Loghain in the political arena, and after that, the darkspawn in open war. There were no smiles after the battle, only screams and tears.

* * *

It was the morning after, Anora was planning a royal funeral. Aemon offered Redcliff as the site of it. It was the place where Daylen made his name, where he first proved himself a hero. As Leliana walked the ravaged streets, she saw people helping one another. Daylen was not the only one who died that night. A great many people were alive too, and that was what Leliana wanted to see. In the alienage, Shianni was overseeing repairs efforts. The elves worked together, comforted each other. Leliana saw a great career of leadership, and perhaps politics in Shianni's future. A future made possible by Daylen's decision to protect the alienage. In the markets, the dwarven merchant Gorim was helping treat the bodies of the people killed, taking the burden off of family members. The Blacksmith Wade was sitting by the ruins of his shop, he and Herren were both in shock, but thankful to be alive.

"Bless you sister Leliana, bless you for your help," one of the Chantry sisters said to Leliana.

She walked into the building, something she noted she had not done for the duration of her journey with Daylen. It was not that different from the one at Redcliffe. Walking to the altar, Leliana put her hands together and prayed.

"Blessed are those who stand before the wicked and do not falter, blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just. For many days I have prayed maker, I have prayed for things that, I have often prayed for and I hope you have granted people comforting moments. And I hope that you guided..." she shook her head.

'I cannot do this, for once in my life I cannot do this,' Leliana thought, standing up and looking at her hands in horror. 'I cannot praise the maker, I cannot thank him. To say we survived because of his blessing, would be an insult to the man who truly saved us. To he, whom embodied the very prayer of Andraste 7:12.'

She ran out of the Chantry, collapsing near the well. The tears were falling from her eyes, and she was boiling with rage.

"Why him, after all he did, this is not how things should be," she whispered.

She could pray, but Daylen did not believe in such things. He believed in what could be seen, in what could be made possible. And there was something, something that was possible. Something that saved one man thought lost.

"Perhaps, perhaps you can help," she said.

It was the day they were to leave for Redcliffe. The royal caravan was led by Alistair and Anora, both of whom stayed together to promote the illusion that would be their marriage. But neither went near the caravan that contained Daylen's body. When they stopped for camp, Daylen's body had been put into a tent, under the expectation that the chantry sisters would cleanse it. Leliana walked to the tent and saw the sisters standing cautiously away from the body, which was protected by Irving. The first enchanter didn't have the look of patience and kindness he held when Leliana first met him.

"Keep away from him," he snarled.

"First Enchanter please," one of the sisters said.

"He wouldn't have wanted it, your prayers and your rituals, leave him alone, he stayed in the circle, can't you just let him rest?" he demanded.

"Irving, what is the meaning of this?" Greagoir asked as he and Wynn came in.

"They mustn't touch him, they mustn't," Irving repeated.

All of the rage drained from his face and was replaced with just sadness. He quivered and turned to Daylen's body, covered by a white sheet.

"I will clean him, I will, he was my apprentice," he whispered.

"Irving, the sisters won't tend to his body, we will, but not now while you are like this, Wynn said, taking Irving by his shoulders and guiding him out of the tent.

The sisters too left, and Leliana watched the knight-commander approach the table. He looked at the body as if he was going to say something. But then he simply lowered his head and left. Knowing she had little time left, she got the sled she had prepared and slid Daylen's body onto it. Wrapping ropes gently over the sheet, she had to suppress her tears, and try not to think about what she was doing. Her conscience was telling her this was wrong, to take his body like this. She strained to move the sled, pulling on the rope she had tied to it.

"Need some help?" a voice asked from the entrance.

Leliana looked up with a gasp, her hand going to her knife for a brief period. Oghren and Zevran stood there, both of them in equipment necessary for the journey Leliana was to make. She was about to explain when they took the sled and began carrying it. Dropping her head in thanks, Leliana breathed out a sigh of relief. Only those whom had witnessed the miracle that came out of that temple would understand her actions.

They walked for a few days, stopping to camp occasionally. Leliana dared not look at Daylen's body under the sheet. She didn't know whether seeing him cold and lifeless would be preferable to her last memory of him. The trio never spoke to one another, never talked about where they were going or why they were going there. They never even spoke about Daylen, their fondest memories of him or how much they missed him. Looking into the fire, Leliana was reminded of the fire that Daylen could conjure. She remembered the fire in his eyes as he fought one opponent after another. Even through acts of kindness, like taking Bevin back to his sister, or releasing Jowan from his cell were times when he had that same fire in his eyes.

'Doing good was something he yearned to do, facing injustice and cruelty was his life, his legacy,' Leliana thought for a moment, and then shook her head.

It would work, it had to work. Another couple of days passed and they arrived at their destination. They walked up the mountain, Oghren and Zevran both taking care as they dragged the sled. Leliana stopped at the entrance to the temple, the temple of Andraste.

"Let's get him inside," Leliana said to her tired companions.

"Do you imagine there will be more power inside the temple?"

Leliana froze, not because of the cold atmosphere of the mountain, or the snow, but because she recognised the voice that rung through the snow flakes. She sauntered through the snow, wearing a thick cloak over the scanty clothes she always wore.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Morrigan said.

"You," Leliana seethed.

She drew her knife and began marching towards the witch. Grabbing her by the hair, Leliana put her blade to Morrigan's neck, her glare a contrast to Morrigan's smirk.

"Where in the name of the Maker did you go? Why weren't you at Denerim?" Leliana demanded.

"It was no longer my fight," Morrigan said.

Leliana grit her teeth together, wanting nothing more than to slice the witch's throat. But then she looked over at Daylen's body and shook her head.

"Do you truly think this will work? Or are you just hoping?" Morrigan asked.

"It will work, it will," Leliana said.

She took the rope attached to the sled and began to drag it through the gates of the temple. As before, the traps and trials of the temple began anew. But before she faced the gauntlet again, she met the silver armoured form of the temple guardian. The bearded man had an other worldly presence, his voice echoing through the walls. And when he saw Leliana approach him, he looked at the sled she dragged and lowered his head.

"You whom believed yourself a prophet have come, seeking the power of the ashes, why do you seek them, to ease your own grief?" the guardian asked.

"I have come to put something right, the power of those ashes is a miracle, the kind people pray for, of all the people in the world, he deserves its power. Because he embodies the very ideals of the chantry and Andraste, and if you disagree, if you bar my way, then I will do what I must, damn you and the maker if I must," Leliana explained.

She was fully prepared to fight the guardian. Even if the smarter part of her knew that she wouldn't stand a chance against him. The guardian moved aside, remaining silent as the door behind him opened. Though sceptical at first, Leliana moved on ahead to face the Gauntlet. Leliana's knowledge of the stories behind the origins of the chantry and Andraste was encyclopaedic, the riddles were easy. She also thankfully remembered the pattern required to get past that puzzle chamber. But the room where the spirits of doubt lingered had suddenly become much longer.

"Oh Leliana, do you truly believe this will work, don't pretend you're doing it for him," the image of Marjolaine laughed at her.

"Love is ultimately selfish Leliana, it forces you to dedicate yourself to one person, that is something he could never do for you," said the form of Wynn.

"Death is sacred child, healing Eamon was one thing but this defies the will of the maker," spoke Dorothea.

"He died a hero, at peace with himself and you want to deny him that, bring him back into this cruel world," said her long dead friend Tug.

"He will not be grateful for this," said Sten.

"This is for you, not him, you have to let it go, open your eyes and face reality, he is gone!" snapped Loghain.

"I DON'T CARE!" Leliana yelled.

She finally reached the end and all of her ghosts disappeared.

"This has to work, it must work," she said.

A haughty laugh echoed through the corridor and Leliana turned. She widened her eyes in shock at who she saw. The heels of her boots clacked against the floor, she swayed her hips provocatively and smirked. Her eyes held utter contempt for Leliana and the place she was walking in. Leliana looked upon who she used to be, Marjolaine's pet, her hair styled in the way it had been when she left her master. 'The bard' shook her head as she lifted up the covers and looked at Daylen.

"The scars and burns are most unattractive, of all the men you could have fallen in love with, it had to be him. That's what this is all about isn't it? You can't bear the thought of living in a world that doesn't have him in it, so you will pray for miracles. It is pathetic," the bard explained.

"He's my home, he is where I want to stay, you were the pathetic one, in love with someone who was incapable of loving you," Leliana said.

"Whilst you have fallen for someone who must love everyone," the bard retorted.

"Of course I have, because he has so much love in his heart, he taught me what true love and true heroism is, he taught us all," Leliana turned away from her doppelganger and pulled the sled into the last chamber in the gauntlet and the last test before Andraste's ashes.

She stripped herself and walked through the flames, carrying only a pouch with her. Leliana grasped handfuls of the ashes from the urn, putting it into the pouch. Then she rushed through the flames, untied the ropes binding Daylen to the sled and threw the sheet off. He was dressed in simple black clothes as always, not his armour, or his circle robes. Ripping open the shirt, Leliana took a pinch of the ashes and sprinkled them over his heart area.

"Let the ashes of Andraste heal you Daylen, and give you new life," she whispered, putting her hands together.

A moment she waited, her eyes closed, but still listening. All she needed to hear was a small breath. But she never heard it. She rested her head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing, there was nothing. She took two pinches of the ashes, sprinkling one over his heart again and another into his mouth. Watching him in anticipation and gritting her teeth together, Leliana waited and still gained no results.

"Come on," she snarled in frustration.

Opening the pouch fully, she sprinkled the ashes over his entire body and knelt by his side, putting her hands together again.

"Maker, please let this work, please, you gifted the ashes with divine power, please let them heal him, bring him back to a world he can make better," she prayed.

His chest did not rise, he did not take a breath.

"Bring him back to me please, do this and I will spend the rest of my life in service to you, I will renounce all possessions, renounce love for others and dedicate myself to you fully."

Daylen's face was still, no curl of his lip or twitch of his fingers. His skin remained cold and pain.

"Please give him back to me, of all the things that people can pray for please give him back, please let him have this second chance...LET ME HAVE THIS!" Leliana screamed, throwing her arms around Daylen's body and crying her heart out.

"What good are you?" she asked. "If you don't reward your servants? What good are you if you don't reward those whom embody kindness and sacrifice? He has asked nothing of you, can't you give him just one more chance?"

But her prayers, as they had been so many times went unanswered. Leliana looked at Daylen's still form and in utter defeat, did what she thought she wouldn't have to do.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

She gently grasped his cheeks and kissed his cold lips. More tears fell from her face, but as she dressed, she was at least at peace with the fact that she had tried. After a few minutes she emerged from the temple. Neither Zevran or Oghren seemed surprised. They both hugged Leliana, letting her squeeze their necks and dry her eyes on their shoulders. Morrigan stood on a rock with her arms crossed, shaking her head in dismay.

"So, now that you have confirmed the bitterly obvious, are you ready to move on from this nonsense?" Morrigan asked.

Leliana stepped away from Oghren and Zevran, her neck slouched and shoulders hunched. Suddenly, she jumped, crossing the downhill distance between herself and Morrigan. Her fist slammed into the witch's face, knocking her to the ground.

"YOU BITCH!" Leliana yelled.

She slammed her knee into Morrigan's chest, attempting to pin her down. Morrigan however caught her fist and reversed their positions, placing her knee on Leliana's throat.

"I knew this wouldn't work, and our of all of you I wanted it to succeed the most," Morrigan said.

"LIAR!" Leliana pulled Morrigan's foot, causing the witch to yell in pain.

She threw Morrigan across the snow and dived at her. They rolled over rocks, Leliana cutting her head on one, whilst Morrigan slammed her back into another. Both writhed in pain but still kept up the assault.

"You always mocked the idea of love, and his ideals," Leliana grasped at Morrigan's neck, only for her to pulled her hands back.

"Yet I shared his tent every night," Morrigan retorted.

The slight smirk she had on her face earned a head butt from Leliana, drawing blood from Morrigan's lip.

"You were a distraction, he was fucking you, nothing more," Leliana said.

She tackled Morrigan, slamming her against the ground and punching her again. Morrigan dragged her nails across Lelian's cheek, stunning her before punching her in the face.

"He looked at me with such warmth in his eyes, caressed my skin tenderly, kissed me so passionately," Morrigan said.

Leliana screamed, trying to punch Morrigan again. But Morrigan flipped her onto her back and kicked her in the stomach.

"You never got to lay with him did you, never got to kiss him? You just pined for him, but I had him, I..." Morrigan's next words were cut when a snowball flew into her face.

"You may have had his bedside, but I had his trust, and don't you dare speak of love when you weren't the one holding his body when it fell," Leliana stated, tripping Morrigan up and grabbing her by her shirt. "YOU ABANDONED HIM!"

"BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T LET ME SAVE HIS LIFE!" Morrigan screamed as Leliana put the knife to her throat.

Leliana looked at Morrigan in shock. Never had she seen tears in the wild witch's eyes. They were subtle, barely noticeable, but still there. And though they did not fall like Leliana's did, they became much more visible.

"I offered Daylen a chance, partake in a ritual that would save his life, and all he had to do was lay with me for one more night. I asked him, begged him, but he still refused. It was his pride and his love for you that drove him into that battle, he's not dead because of me, but because of you," Morrigan explained.

Slowly, Leliana backed away from Morrigan, putting the knife back on her belt.

"The fact that you would say that, proves just how little you knew him," Leliana said. "But I can tell you miss him as much as we all do. You said it yourself Morrigan, you were willing to place faith in 'nonsense' like Andraste's ashes because like me, you wanted it to work," Leliana explained.

Morrigan remained silent, looking at Daylen's body. Leliana signalled Zevran and Oghren and they both began carrying the sled down. She didn't look back at Morrigan. The witch stood and raised her hands, using her magic to form the image of Daylen in front of her. She placed her hands on his cheeks, the image flickering as she held her hands in place, imagining it was him.

"Goodbye, my love!" she whispered, shedding a single tear.

Next Alistair: Stage D


End file.
